


It's Fate That Brought Us Here

by takemetofantasyland



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Canon Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24748441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemetofantasyland/pseuds/takemetofantasyland
Summary: A collection of scenes from Anastasia from alternate points of view from the musical
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	It's Fate That Brought Us Here

**Author's Note:**

> In My Dreams in Dmitry's POV. This was the one shot that started this thought. Revised from a previous one shot posted only to tumblr.

“I’m not crazy!” She shouted as she marched up to where a tall, lanky man sat on a chair turned backwards with a smug look on his face.

She came to a halt mere inches from his nose. Her blue eyes wild and her straw-colored hair untamed, she balled her hands into fists as she stood her ground opposed to him, reinforcing her agency. 

He scoffed as he looked at her and lazily draped his arms over the back of the chair. 

Dmitry was used to entertaining the deranged and demented of St. Petersburg. He had seen how this city had broken even the most sane of minds. She was likely not far from it. 

“Why are you so unkind?” She said firmly. She grit her teeth in anger, but her eyes pleaded with him.

He smirked as he looked up at her from his chair. She was just like every other crazy woman in St. Petersburg—demanding his help, unable to pay the price. He knew this act. Unfortunately it wasn’t the type of act he was looking for. 

Dmitry pulled his cap from his head and ran his fingers through his hair before placing his cap back on his head. 

“We were hoping you were someone else,” Vlad interjected as he broke the tense gaze between the two of them. 

The woman turned over her shoulder as Vlad revealed himself from the shadows. She gazed at him for a moment, eyeing him and analyzing whether she thought he was a friend or a foe. 

“Who?” she asked. She was gentle with Vlad. 

Vlad pulled his spectacles off and wiped them clean on the edge of his shirt before placing them back on the bridge of his nose. He looked at the young woman, “Someone who may not even exist.”

Dmitry frowned and grumbled at Vlad as he gestured to the young woman behind her back. _ Betrayal _ . 

Vlad had never quite mastered being tight-lipped like Dmitry. Now he was spilling details to this girl who was clearly not in her right mind. He didn’t need to worry her with such complicated things. 

As Vlad and Dmitry exchanged glances the girl wandered around the room, examining the dusty drapes over furniture and paintings. 

“I’ve been in this room before,” the young woman announced and she spun around as if she had seen a ghost. 

Dmitry’s brow arched as he watched her examined the artifacts around the room. The palace may as well have been as old as Russia herself—the walls and rugs were soaked with memories they would never speak of again—but this young woman looked at them as if she were somewhere between seeing them for the first time and knowing the secrets they held. 

“This was the private theater of Count Yusupov’s Palace,” Vlad smiled warmly. He gently rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder and she flinched. 

She looked up at Vlad as he looked around the room with misty eyes. 

Dmitry rolled his eyes. There he went. Giving things away again to this girl they didn’t know if they could trust. 

She mused as she walked around the room, quietly mumbling as she gazed off across the room, “There was a play and everyone was beautifully dressed—”

Dmitry scoffed as he frowned. It was easy to make this sort of stuff up. He had just watched several dozen women pretend to be Anastasia. 

The woman turned and looked at him, “and they were polite and kind.”

He grit his teeth as he held her gaze. 

She gasped and turned over her shoulder, as if she had been touched by something they could not see. Her musing had slipped into weariness, and her thin frame told him she was not the luckiest. 

Dmitry let out a sigh and shook his head, “She’s going to faint on us!”

Vlad gingerly approached the woman, “when did you eat last?”

She continued on as if she had not heard him. She was in a daze of some sort, or lost in a memory. 

“Afterwards we danced, there was champagne—I stole a sip!” She held her hand out as if holding a champagne flute and her hand held her skirt as if it were not a frock and petticoat but a beautiful ball gown. 

She was speaking out into the open air, almost as if Vlad and Dmitry did not exist. 

“Where are your manners, Dmitry, get her some water! And a piece of cheese!” Vlad scolded him as he gripped his arm and yanked him towards the door. 

Dmitry pulled from his grip and scowled. He didn’t understand. Why had she now become his responsibility? 

“This isn’t a soup kitchen, Vlad!” Dmitry snapped. “That’s down the street and across the bridge.”

Vlad glared at him. 

Dmitry grumbled as he walked down the hall to the cupboard where he and Vlad stashed their meager ration of food. 

He filled a glass with water and carried it back to the room where this young woman was now sitting and lightly chatting with Vlad. She had turned quite pleasant in his absence. 

“I’m Vlad,” Vlad offered a grin as he spoke with her, “what’s your name, Dear?”

Dmitry stubbornly offered the glass of water to her. 

She glared at him as she carefully accepted the glass and pulled it away from his grip. She waited until he was no longer watching her, and she took a sip. 

He threw his hands out as he groaned. He was being told to help her in front of her and she was still suspicious of his intentions. 

His temper was starting to boil. She was wasting his time asking for papers she could never afford. 

Vlad was too quick to trust people. Especially the delusional ones. He unfortunately still had the heart to empathize with them. Dmitry had lost that years ago. 

“I don’t know,” the woman replied after gulping down the water. 

Vlad let out a deep, hearty laugh, “you don’t know?”

“They gave me a name at the hospital—Anya.” The woman replied sharply. “They told me I had amnesia. There was nothing they could do.”

_ Amnesia.  _

__

The wheels started to turn in his head. If she didn’t remember who she was, she could easily be a blank canvas to become someone else. 

__

He turned on his heel and began to give her a second look. She was small and thin, most likely due to malnourishment. That wasn’t much of a problem to him. Who wasn’t malnourished on the rations they were given? 

__

Her eyes were blue enough to pass questioning. He paused in thought at he watched her. Her build and features fit the mold well enough—if only they could teach her not to be so feral. 

__

“Tell us what you do remember,” Vlad said softly. The jest in his brow had disappeared and Dmitry could tell Vlad was just as perplexed by this girl as he was. 

__

“I only know what the nurses told me,” Anya began, “so forgive me if I don’t quite remember. But they told me I was found and brought to the hospital. I didn’t remember how I had gotten there or who I was, but they gave me a hat and a name and I was given a room.” 

__

Dmitry arched his brow and crossed his arms over his chest as he listened. 

__

“But I do know one thing, and that is someone is waiting for me in Paris.” Anya continued. “I’ve seen it over and over in my dreams.”

__

Dmitry sighed and his shoulders dropped. He took a seat in a spare chair and rested his chin in his hand. Just when she was actually starting to make sense she had to throw in something crazy. 

__

He was puzzled by her. How had she made it this far? How could a woman who woke up one day with no memories of her past make it from Perm to St. Petersburg on foot?

__

“There’s a river and a bridge by a square, and that’s where they’re waiting for me,” Anya murmured as she walked around the room. 

__

Dmitry’s brow arched as he realized she wasn’t even talking to him, but more out into the room as she searched her memory. 

__

“Who?” he asked. 

__

“I don’t know,” Anya replied. “But I know one thing and that’s Paris.”

__

He sneered to himself. She was telling these stories of grand balls and Paris. Anya was a street sweeper. She must have hit her head harder than she remembered. 

__

Anya caught sight of him laughing. She circled back to him, and marched up to his chair. “I’ve seen flashes of fire, and heard echoes of screams,” she recalled desperately. 

__

He swallowed his laughter as fear struck into his heart. Anya softened but her eyes were still fixed on him, “but I still have faith in my dreams.”

__

Dmitry cleared his throat as he saw a shift in her eyes. There was something in him that knew she wasn’t as delusional as he had originally thought. Sure she might be a little crazy, but you’d have to be a little crazy to walk across Siberia. 

__

She gripped the brim of his cap and pulled it down over his eyes, and turned sharply over her shoulder to look over at Vlad. “I know my memories will come back one day.”

__

Dmitry grumbled as he pulled his cap off and ran his fingers through his hair before readjusting the cap on his head. 

__

_ Paris. _ She was looking to go to Paris. 

__

“Well, Anya, maybe we can help you after all,” Dmitry offered a sinister smile. “It just so happens we’re going to Paris ourselves.”

__

Anya turned to look at him and her eyes flicked across the room to Vlad, “you are?”

__

Dmitry nodded and folded his arms over his chest, “for a small exchange, you could be on your way to Paris too.”

__

Vlad arched his brow as he watched the shift in Dmitry’s stature. 

__

“What is the charge?” Anya said cautiously. 

__

“Have you ever heard of the Grand Duchess Anastasia?” Dmitry asked as his brow arched. 

__

“Yes, of course” Anya replied. “But I thought those were just rumors. It’s all just gossip, you know.”

__

Dmitry stood up from his chair and carefully approached her. He gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her across the room to a dusty mirror. 

__

Anya stood, staring at her reflection. Dmitry’s hand dropped from her shoulder as he stood behind her. “Who says a rumor can’t be true?” He replied with a grin. Her eyes flicked up at him in the reflection. 

__

Her lips pursed as she stared at him. She was taking his offer into consideration.

__

“I need to go to Paris, you need to go to Paris, say we cut ourselves a little deal?” Dmitry’s lip curled into a devilish grin. “I get out of Russia, you find what you’re looking for—everybody wins.”

__

Anya stared at him in the reflection of the mirror assessing every inch of him. And then she stuck out her hand to shake on it.   
  


__


End file.
